


Different (Anders)

by aldiara



Category: Alles was zaehlt
Genre: Alles was zählt - Freeform, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-28
Updated: 2010-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deniz and Roman's first time. Fills in the blanks between episodes 306 and 307. (English version)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different (Anders)

**Author's Note:**

> Available in English and German. For Lilithilien.

“Are you sure you really want this?”

Roman’s words hung in the air, echoing calmly and clearly in Deniz’s ears, but he had real trouble concentrating, and he couldn’t even tell Roman that he was completely incapable of forming a coherent or meaningful answer. Besides, the question, however nobly intended on Roman’s part, had long become irrelevant anyway. Yes, dammit, he was sure – but even if he hadn’t been, the point would have become moot the second he opened the door and saw Roman there, the dim light caressing his skin and water droplets trickling down from his hair. Sure, what the hell was sure? Was he sure he was scared shitless? Definitely. Was he sure what he was doing? Totally, completely, utterly not. Was he sure he wanted Roman? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Roman was just standing there, looking up at him without blinking, his gaze unflinching and unfathomable. Deniz gave the only answer he had to give and fled forwards, into his mouth, kissing him, hot and helpless. Roman met him willingly, one hand at his hip, the other against his cheek, fingertips warm and reassuring. He smelled of something tart and tangy, shampoo or shower gel or something, and suddenly Deniz couldn’t bear to have anything between them. His hands groped for the edge of the towel Roman had slung around his hips, tugging at it blindly until it gave and fell to the floor between them. Roman smiled; Deniz could feel the curve of it against his lips. He kissed him more forcefully and reached for his hips, pulling him towards him, almost rough in his uncertainty. The bare skin under his hands, the sharp angle of hip bones was like a shock, though not as much as the realisation that Roman was hard; he could feel his erection jutting against his thigh. He knew a confused moment of panic then, and almost felt grateful for the layers of clothes that still protected him from direct skin contact, although he couldn’t help silently cursing the intervening cloth at the same time. Not least because he felt incredibly hot, though whether that was due to too many clothes or too much Roman – warm and naked in his arms, his tongue playful and demanding in his mouth and, _oh god, he’s hard because of me, what the hell do I do, fuck, but he feels so good_ – well, damned if he knew.

Kissing. Concentrate on the kissing, don’t think any further. He knew how to kiss, if nothing else. He knew how this worked – lips, tongue, teeth… except, no, fuck it, he didn’t; didn’t have a clue, because everything was different with Roman, even kissing. Before him, Deniz had had a certain idea of what kissing was all about. The boy was the striker; the girl was defence. Yeah, it was a dumb image, sure, but to him it made sense. It was all about the attack, the conquest, the none too subtle game of power – how far would she let him go, how much ground would she give. He was always the one in charge; at least it had been that way with all the girls he’d kissed (and they weren’t few). Roman didn’t seem to give a toss about such established patterns, or perhaps they didn’t exist as such with gays, what did he know… Roman’s kisses went from demanding and aggressive to flirtatious and pliant from one moment to the next, and Deniz never knew what to expect. It was enough to drive you crazy; it was confusing and liberating and different and completely, unarguably hot.

Roman broke the kiss and tilted his head back, one eyebrow slightly raised. He tugged playfully at the collar of Deniz’s jacket. “You know, I feel somewhat at a disadvantage, here,” he said, a slight smirk in his voice, gesturing vaguely to indicate Deniz’s state of very much complete attire.

Deniz automatically looked down. He cleared his throat. “Uhm. No need for that, the way I see it.” The words shot out of him before he could stop them, and he promptly felt heat rising to his cheeks. Roman blinked up at him, clearly startled, before a laugh burst out of him, surprised and delighted. “Tut tut, Mr. Öztürk! Who’s going to measure?”

Deniz was torn between wanting the ground to open up and swallow him and the urgent desire to prove to Roman that he wasn’t completely green. Settling for the latter, he reached for Roman’s shoulders to pull him back in, but Roman unexpectedly took a step back. He grasped Deniz’s hand, though, before it could drop off his shoulder, entwining their fingers. “Maybe we should move this to my room before the girls get back.” The merest hint of a question was in his tone – of course, how very like Roman, to leave him an out even now, a last chance to change his mind. An empty gesture if ever there was one, considering how far behind him the point when he could still have turned and left was by now; but in a strange way, it almost moved him. Of course he couldn’t tell Roman that, but he felt his lips curving into a crooked smile, and his nervousness abated a little. Not much, mind you, but a little. “Okay,” he murmured.

Roman’s smile lit up his face, dazzling Deniz so much that he automatically reached out for him again. Roman sidestepped him with the inherent grace of a dancer but used his grip on his hand to tug him towards the door. Deniz stumbled along behind him, feeling absurdly too tall and clumsy as a puppy.

Room. Door. Bed. His world seemed to have contracted to one-syllable words describing mundane concepts. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room while Roman switched on a crepe-screen IKEA lamp that cast the room into a soft half-light. He stared at the bed – made somewhat sloppily, but made at all, which was more than he could usually say for his – with newly mounting alarm. _What am I doing?_

Roman was leaning against the closed door, naked and visibly aroused and apparently not in the least bit embarrassed, the bastard. He was even smiling. “Bit less chance of interruptions in here. We don’t need a repeat performance of the drama with Marian, right?”

Deniz swallowed past his incredibly dry throat. He nodded jerkily, not capable of more. Roman was looking at him as if he wanted… Deniz didn’t even know what, as if he just wanted to pounce on him or something. And the rest of him… Deniz couldn’t take his eyes off him, couldn’t stop his gaze going up and down and back again. Smooth skin on which the drops of water had nearly dried; muscles gently outlined by the half-light of the lamp. His nipples had stiffened, which, okay, seemed to be some sort of permanent state with him. Deniz bit back a nervous smile and stared at them, pink and erect, and suddenly an image rose to his mind, forceful and unbidden, of himself closing his teeth on one and biting down, very gently or, alright, maybe a little harder… holy crap. He pressed his lips together, felt that damnable blush coming up again, even more so when he dropped his eyes further down. Roman’s cock was larger than expected – _expected, dude, did I expect anything?!_ – rising taut and unapologetic from between his legs, the tip swollen and slightly moist, from the shower perhaps, or… Fuck, it was hot in here. Were they heating already? Deniz abruptly pulled off his jacket and tossed it into a corner – fine, then, if he was going to do this, he wasn’t going to stand back or be a girl about it. Roman wasn’t the only one who could… well, he had nothing to be ashamed of. He toed his sneakers off his feet while tugging his shirt over his head. His heart was beating like crazy, and his arms got tangled up in the sleeves – of course, great timing, that was just perfect. He made an impatient sound and pulled, nearly ripping the fabric. Then Roman was there, filling the space against him as if he belonged there. He freed Deniz from the uncooperative shirt and framed his cheeks with his hands, bringing his face close to his own.

“Hey, slow down,” he whispered, breath hot against Deniz’s skin. “We’ve got time, okay?”

Deniz smiled wryly; he tried for his usual cocky tone but didn’t quite manage. “Maybe you do. Me, I’m about to explode.”

But Roman only smiled and leaned in to kiss him, slow and luxurious, his tongue soft and playful; and strangely enough, suddenly Deniz’s breathing eased a bit. His heart was still beating like a mad thing in his chest, but it felt more like curious excitement now than panic. It was okay. This was Roman. He didn’t have to pretend like he knew jack shit about what he was doing. He didn’t have to try and be someone else, because for some unfathomable reason Roman wanted _him_ , stupid little Deniz Öztürk with his big mouth and very little to back it up.

Roman pulled off his tank top, which went the way of his shirt and jacket in the corner. Roman’s hands slid over his chest, up his shoulders and down his arms, folded around his fingers and urged him backwards. He cocked his head and seemed about to say something, but Deniz had had enough of his goddamn talking that never seemed to stop. Greedily, he sought Roman’s mouth, sliding one hand around his throat and tilting his head back while his tongue explored the insides of his mouth. Roman yielded with a suddenness that made him dizzy with want. Roman’s tongue danced around his, pliant and teasing, and Deniz followed, entwining it with his own, licking the contours of Roman’s mouth and hearing the blood rushing in his ears. His jeans seemed to be about three sizes too small all of a sudden. He stumbled when he felt an obstacle behind him – it was only the edge of the bed, but he was feeling dizzy and grabbed for the only support there was: he wrapped his arms tightly around Roman. The sudden sensation of skin on skin caused him to make a sound, an embarrassingly stupid little moan. Roman laughed softly against his ear, a rush of warm breath that made Deniz’s skin prickle, and he lost what little precarious footing he had.

The edge of the bed pushed into the backs of his knees, and he found himself sitting down abruptly, without letting go of Roman, who landed half beside him, half on his lap. He barely blinked an eye at the change of position, merely turned slightly sideways so he could stretch out his injured leg. His head was buried against the curve of Deniz’s shoulder, and he was nibbling kisses up his neck. Deniz felt his breath catch at the sensation. A shiver ran down his back, and he ran his hands – _stop trembling, you stupid things_ – down Roman’s curved back, following the slightly raised bumps of his spine.

“You taste good,” Roman murmured into his ear, and Deniz tilted his head to the side to give him easier access. He couldn’t say anything; his tongue felt heavy and ungainly in his mouth, as if Roman’s kisses had partially paralysed him. He drew Roman closer, craving more of this body with something dangerously akin to addiction; more of these firm muscles underneath smooth skin, the occasional sharp jut of bones, and the warm, generous grace with which he moved, willingly allowing himself to be pulled in, everything about him saying, _yes, it’s okay, you can touch me, do what you want_.

While Roman’s lips wandered up his throat to his earlobe, Deniz let his hands continue their explorations. He stroked across Roman’s shoulders and then down his sides, hesitant at first, until a low “Mhmmm” in his ear encouraged him to go on. He slid his hands over Roman’s chest, felt his hard nipples underneath his palms and heard him suck in air sharply. Curiosity piqued, he returned to circle the stiff nubs with his fingers, eventually taking one between thumb and index finger and squeezing experimentally. Roman was breathing heavily, trailing kisses along the line of Deniz’s jaw, before he rose up a bit, his hands on Deniz’s shoulders. Deniz squeezed both nipples again, a bit harder this time, slowly rolling them between his fingers, and Roman let his head fall back.

“Deniz…” It came out half a moan, and the sight of him – the long arch of his neck, the pebbled, dusky nipples between Deniz’s fingers and a single drop of water trailing down between his pectorals – sent a long, delicious shudder through Deniz. He couldn’t remember ever having seen anything so beautiful or hot as Roman in this moment, naked and inviting on his lap. He closed his hands on Roman’s arms and dragged him back against him, kissing him hard and eagerly while blindly fumbling downwards. Roman’s cock was hot and swollen under his hand, pulsing slightly at the touch, and Roman murmured something breathless that was swallowed in their kiss. Deniz closed his fingers around him, hesitant at first but eager enough to learn, and quickly stopped caring about how clumsy or inexperienced he must seem. Roman had said himself he needn’t worry, and besides, surely this had to be easier than with girls, anyway? He had a dick, after all, and knew what he liked – it couldn’t be all that different with Roman.

An unbidden memory briefly rose to the surface – back to Munich and Valerie, the girl with whom he’d had his first… well, he wasn’t sure what to call it, it certainly didn’t qualify as sex. He’d come in her hand inside of five seconds and had spent the next ten minutes in a torturous hell of stammering apologies while searching for her clit with mounting desperation. She’d tried to give him instructions and eventually faked a rather unconvincing orgasm to get it over with. Not exactly his finest moment.

This, here… this wasn’t like that, not remotely. This was another league entirely. This was different; completely new, yes, but at the same time strangely familiar. He was hard himself, so much it almost hurt; his skin was aflame wherever Roman touched him, one hand around his nape, rubbing gently, the other brushing across his belly. He felt his stomach muscles ripple in response, every nerve seemingly attuned to Roman’s touch. His own hand was sliding up Roman’s cock, without rhythm yet, still preoccupied with exploring the feeling, the full hardness under his fingertips… again, familiar but not. He let his hand trail lower, feeling coarse hair, still damp from the shower, and the vulnerable softness of his balls – he slid back up, tightening his grip and pumping experimentally a few times. Roman’s breath was heavy and sweet in his mouth, growing more erratic by the moment.

He grew more sure of himself, enjoying the sensation and the honesty of Roman’s reactions… this, too, was different from girls, he thought, not such a damn guessing game, no _does she like it or is she just pretending?_ There was really no doubt that Roman liked what he was doing. He didn’t give instructions but let him explore, let him do what he wanted, showing with his movements and the noises he made that he was doing just fine. Deniz enjoyed the experimenting, the heady rush of power when he realised that green or not, he could make Roman’s breath catch, make him thrust his hips forward like this, make him squirm. He sped up a bit more, his fingers flying up and down Roman’s cock now, squeezing harder, rubbing his thumb across the tip and through the moist slide of pre-come that had gathered there. Without warning, Roman’s body grew rigid above him, and he uttered a kind of ragged growl, his cock twitching and pulsing in Deniz’s hand. Warm streaks of come splattered across his fingers and his belly. Not expecting it yet, Deniz started slightly and looked down, a little surprised but fairly pleased with himself. He didn’t think he’d mucked that up too badly.

Roman had slid down half the length of his body, the urgent tension from only a second ago gone completely, melted into languid repose. Deniz held him clumsily around the shoulders with one arm while surreptitiously wiping his other hand on the sheets, feeling back on unfamiliar ground now that this was done. His own cock was throbbing insistently underneath his zipper, and he struggled heroically to remain still and not to squirm with need.

Eventually Roman lifted his head with some apparent difficulty and blinked up at him. “You should be illegal”, he informed him. His voice was lovely and groggy, still slightly slurred by lingering exhaustion. Then he drew in a deep breath, pushed his hair out of his face with an unusually erratic hand, and slid off Deniz’s lap. “Not to mention it’s a crime that you’re still wearing these,” he teased, reaching for Deniz’s fly. Crouched between his knees, he undid button and zipper so deftly that a vague notion of jealousy flashed through Deniz’s head, entirely unexpected – _I wonder how many guys’ pants he’s taken off?_ But the thought did not take hold, not with Roman looking at him like this, blue eyes clear and intent in the dim light. He tugged lightly on his jeans, and Deniz awkwardly lifted his hips to make it easier. He bit his lip when the jeans were pulled off together with his boxers, the slide of fabric almost painful against his hard-on, but Roman was careful… of course, he would be, he knew how it worked. That thought again, foreign and possessive, what the hell? After all, he was glad one of them knew what he was doing.

His jeans and boxers and socks dropped carelessly out of sight, and then Roman was back, between his slightly spread knees, pulling his head down towards his lips and leaving him no room for thought. The kiss was hard this time, Roman’s lips firm and demanding; he was making a space for himself in Deniz’s mouth, in his arms. He was always doing this, Deniz thought vaguely: always stepping up close and challenging him further than he thought he could go, never backing down, no matter the angry defences he’d thrown in his path. At the aggressiveness of the kiss, Deniz felt something of the old rebellion rise to the surface, and kissed back harshly and defiantly, not yielding an inch. For a dizzy, heated moment, the kiss turned into something like a fight; Deniz felt the sharp edge of teeth digging into his lip, the sudden pain not entirely unwelcome. He bit Roman in turn, trying to push him back, to make him surrender. _You think I can’t do this? I’ll show you, just wait_. Then Roman shifted forwards a bit, sliding a leg between Deniz’s thighs, and the sudden pressure of warm skin against his most sensitive spot was electric, a shock sizzling through him from head to toe; heat and lust, sharper than Roman’s teeth caught in his lower lip. He wrapped his arms tightly around Roman’s hips, pulling roughly to get him closer, wanting more, more skin, more sensation, more everything. He humped shamelessly against Roman’s leg, pushing aside all thoughts of what he might look like right now. If he wasn’t careful, he’d come in about ten seconds, and he mustn’t, mustn’t embarrass himself, not with this; he’d hold out if it killed him.

Then Roman abruptly lost his balance on his other leg, the injured one, badly balanced, and fell against Deniz with a surprised “Mmmphhh!” They landed fully on the bed, arms and legs tangled up, graceless and clumsy, and Roman snorted a laugh. “Sorry. That wasn’t exactly elegant.” He had fallen on top of Deniz with all his weight and now pushed himself up on one arm to look down on him. “Are you okay?” For a moment, all Deniz could do was stare up at him wordlessly, robbed of the powers of speech by this sudden, unrestricted closeness: skin to skin, Roman naked and shameless above him, his still-damp hair wildly dishevelled and tiny laugh lines forming in the corners of his eyes; the lips twitching slightly, amused and tender at once. The sight very nearly undid him, and he was this close to saying something, something stupid and unforgivably mushy, like, _I’m so completely in love with you_ , but that wasn’t an option, of course. He settled for a nod instead. “I’m fine.” He slipped a hand around Roman’s nape to pull him back down, wanting to taste that smile, wanting to devour it, trace every millimetre with his own lips.

They’d made out a lot, and Deniz had always thought the heat was off the charts; but against this, their previous encounters seemed positively chaste: Roman, here, above him, his hands everywhere, and Deniz’s own couldn’t seem to get enough either. He ran them over Roman’s nape to cup his shoulder blades, down his back and then, after only a second’s hesitation, following the curve of his buttocks. Once again, Roman made that ragged little growling noise that Deniz suspected he could very quickly get addicted to. Encouraged, he tightened his grip, digging his hands into Roman’s arse and pulling him hard against his pelvis. Roman threw back his head, and Deniz used the opportunity to dig his teeth gently into Roman’s skin at the point where neck met shoulder. He tasted salty sweat and smelled the fruity tang of shampoo. Roman’s legs were wrapped up tightly with his own, and almost without his own volition, Deniz pushed up with his hips, helplessly eager for more, for pressure, friction, anything. He felt on fire, and he knew he’d never been this turned on in his life – if this was what other boys felt with girls, then little wonder that he’d asked himself for so long what he was missing.

Roman was pushing himself up again, away from him, the bastard, this was so completely not on. Deniz blindly groped after him, but Roman put his hands on his shoulders, pinning him firmly down. He was still smiling, or smiling again, but his eyes were darkened with desire.

“You’re out of this world, you know that?” he said huskily. His gaze travelled hungrily up and down Deniz’s body as if his eyes just couldn’t get enough; one hand followed the path of his gaze, sliding slowly across his chest to his belly, wicked and teasing around his hips to his thighs and back, without going where Deniz wanted it most.

“I could just eat you up.” His smile changed, shifting towards a richer nuance of seduction, sensual and decadent like molten dark chocolate. “In fact, I think that’s exactly what I’ll do,” he murmured into Deniz’s ear and lightly bit down on his earlobe before sliding down his body, sinuous as a snake.

Deniz sharply sucked in air between his teeth as Roman kissed his way down his torso. He took his time, nibbling at Deniz’s nipples and outlining his ribs with his fingers; he painted a trail of kisses across his stomach and followed the contours of one hipbone with a light grazing of teeth. Deniz had closed his eyes; he didn’t trust himself if he watched. Roman’s weight rested warm and solid against his legs; Deniz could feel his cock – already twitching again slightly – pressed against his calf, Roman’s hands on his hips, Roman’s warm breath gusting across his thighs.

He was breathing raggedly himself; he could actually feel his own pulse pounding and felt like everything in him was focused exquisitely, honed towards a single point of expectation. He knew what was coming, knew what to expect, but at the same time he didn’t have a clue, not the foggiest notion – _do it, man, fuck, just do it already, don’t make me beg… because I think I will beg if you want me to but please, please don’t make me._

But when it did happen, it was as if he hadn’t known anything, not the slightest damn thing of what was in store for him. Roman’s warm lips suddenly closing around his cock, the shock of his tongue, hot and wet, and then the heat spreading downward when Roman slowly took him deeper, all of it hit him like a fist to the stomach. His eyes flew wide, and a throaty moan burst out of him, followed closely by Roman’s name. He thrust helplessly upwards. Roman didn’t seem to mind, merely tightened his grip on his hips a little and slid his mouth firmly up and down.

Deniz dug his hands into the sheets on either side of him and desperately tried to control himself and keep from exploding. The one time Valerie had tried this, she’d licked tentatively a few times before making a face and declaring that she couldn’t do this. Apart from the briefness, it had been slobbery and unpleasant and miles – _oh god, what’s he doing with his tongue!_ – miles away from this. It was more than obvious that Roman didn’t find it unpleasant in the slightest. I could just eat you up, he had said, and that was exactly how it felt: like Roman couldn’t get enough of him. He did things with his mouth Deniz couldn’t have dreamed of, alternating between long, appreciative licks with his tongue, playful teasing around the head and deep, hot plunges down to the root, and Deniz felt as if he might just spontaneously dissolve into individual atoms any second. An involuntary whimper escaped him when Roman tantalisingly slowly swiped his tongue around the swollen tip of his cock, nearly driving him insane, and he automatically clenched his teeth to suppress the embarrassing noise.

Suddenly the warm pressure of Roman’s mouth was gone, and Deniz gasped a protest, lifting his head to see what had caused this completely unacceptable turn of events. Roman was looking up at him from under his lashes, shaking his head.  
“No holding back, sweetheart,” he said, one eyebrow raised mock-severely, although his own breath was going fast. “I want to hear every moan.”  
He looked incredibly sexy lying there between Deniz’s legs, cheeks flushed underneath his rumpled hair, his lips slightly parted and moist. Deniz could feel how the sight of him drove every last semi-coherent thought in his head scattering aimlessly apart.

He nodded – speech was out of the question – and ran a hand through Roman’s hair in an unintentionally pleading gesture, nudging him back down. Roman obviously had no objections; he closed his lips firmly around Deniz again, and this time he didn’t try to keep in the desperate, keening noise that strained out of him. Roman rewarded him by sucking him deep, driving him close to the edge and then retreating coyly. _Sweetheart_. The unaccustomed endearment still caressed his ears – he supposed he should be affronted, it was such a girly word after all, but somehow it didn’t sound that way coming from Roman; merely affectionate and teasing and nice, somehow.

He didn’t know how long he’d been lying here – probably less than a few minutes – but he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. When Roman took one hand off his hips, he arched up instinctively, despite Roman’s other hand holding him down. Roman shifted his weight, nudging Deniz’s knee slightly up; he briefly stopped what he was doing, but was back before Deniz could voice a protest, sucking him fervently, harder now, no longer playful and, oh god, he really couldn’t do this much longer…

He flinched, startled, when he felt Roman’s fingers brush his balls, wet with spit or something else, and then lower, deftly applying pressure in incredibly sensitive spots he hadn’t known he had, and then…

Deniz opened his mouth and gasped when one slippery finger pushed inside him. He made a noise, not really knowing if it was in protest or surprise or both, but just then Roman pressed his tongue flat against the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock, and the noise turned into a moan. Without thinking about it, he spread his legs a little farther, the invitation plain if not conscious. His eyes were shut tightly; he saw nothing, didn’t want to see, couldn’t hear anything either, apart from his own ragged breathing. It was as if all his other senses had dulled, leaving room for nothing but touch, being touched, feeling it in every nerve ending, every fibre of his being: the rhythmic motion of Roman’s lips and tongue, his left hand stroking his hip, very gently, almost calming – that had to be a joke, surely, as if anything could calm him down right now. His other hand… the finger inside him moved with the same rhythm as Roman’s mouth sliding up and down his cock. It felt strange, foreign, invasive somehow, and he didn’t even dare think about what he must look like, lying on his back with his legs spread wide, not only getting off on an incredibly hot blowjob but allowing himself to be finger-fucked, as well. But none of that seemed important or real anymore; no embarrassment or inhibitions stood a chance against the sensation of Roman taking him deep inside his mouth while a second finger joined the first… the incredible feeling of utter abandonment, he didn’t even know who was yielding to who and it didn’t matter. He thrust forwards into Roman’s mouth and then back against the circling fingers which suddenly shoved deeper, angling slightly and _twisting_ , and Deniz’s world simply exploded. He did mean to warn Roman, after all he had no idea what the etiquette was, maybe he didn’t want the mess in his mouth – “Roman…,” he stammered, tugging shakily at his damp hair; but it was too late anyway, he was already bucking uncontrollably and coming harder than he ever had in his life. There was a roaring noise inside his head like he was trapped behind a waterfall, and multicoloured sparks were shooting wildly across the insides of his closed lids.

Roman didn’t pull back, quite the contrary: he kept his mouth firmly locked in place and kept sucking until he was done, literally sucking him dry, and Deniz arched towards him one more time, twitching helplessly, before he slumped back and lay still, completely drained and melted into a boneless rag doll.

He came to after what seemed like several hours, vaguely noticing that Roman had straightened up and was sliding up alongside him, cupping his cheek with one hand. Still catching his breath, he opened his eyes – no small feat under the circumstances, he thought – to see Roman’s face above his. A few strands of hair were plastered damply to his forehead, and his lips were half open, reddened and swollen and irresistible. Without thinking, Deniz wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, tracing his lips with his tongue and tasting salty sweat and something else, unfamiliar and tangy, a little earthy… _that’s me_ , the thought flashed through his mind, alarming and hot and strangely elated, _he tastes of me_.

Roman’s hand slid from his cheek to his hair and he deepened the kiss, harder and more demanding than before, his breath accelerating, and as Deniz gradually resurfaced from his pleasant state of languor, he realised belatedly that Roman was fully hard again. Still kissing, Deniz pushed himself up on one elbow with some difficulty to reach clumsily for Roman. His coordination was completely shot to hell, and he hoped it was okay if he used his hand again, or would Roman expect him to return the favour…?

Then he suddenly noticed that Roman’s other hand was still between his legs, the fingers, while no longer inside him, still very much in position… and that the rest of Roman was still between his legs too, his cock hard against Deniz’s thigh.

He froze momentarily and broke the kiss, vague alarm jerking him the rest of the way out of his sated stupor. He felt his heartbeat accelerating, and a flood of unwanted images flashed before his eye… his father standing in the door, distaste writ clearly across his features; Bulle and his fucking stupid jabs about the back door; vague notions of mortifying positions and jeering taunts about fudge packers–

Then he felt fingertips against his cheek, warm and soothing; looking up, he saw Roman’s face, frowning a bit, the blue eyes gentle and slightly concerned, despite the strained tension of his body that Deniz could feel in every muscle. “Deniz?”

 _I love the way he says my name_. He swallowed, caught off guard by the thought and that gaze, and felt how everything else lost its significance next to that. Roman had a way of looking at him that made him speechless in more ways than one – as if he were actually something wondrously amazing and worth looking at; as if Roman couldn’t ever look his fill. He’d been used to having people’s gazes follow him for years – he was a good-looking boy and knew it, having learned to use it to his own benefit. But when Roman looked at him like he was doing just now – enchanted and touched and slightly amused at the same time, as if he was mocking himself for his obvious infatuation – he seemed to see more than just a pretty face. It was as if his eyes went deeper, easily penetrating Deniz’s boasting and swaggering routine and not fooled by it for a minute… and still finding something genuine underneath the easy gloss of his everyday façade that he found worthy of admiration. Deniz didn’t have the faintest clue what, but he fervently hoped that Roman wouldn’t look at him someday and realise that he’d been wrong: that that indefinable, nameless, glowing thing he seemed to be seeing wasn’t there after all, just more veneer and pretence and stupid posing, like so much else about him. No matter how dumb it sounded, he wanted to be worthy of that look.

Roman was smiling at him, an odd sort of smile, half-tender, half-knowing; it made Deniz feel vulnerable and completely at ease all at once.

“Do you want…?” he burst out without thinking. He had no idea how to finish the question; he cast an involuntary look down between their bodies and back up, feeling a blush heating his cheeks when he saw Roman’s surprised expression. Deniz saw his Adam’s apple move when he swallowed and felt a sudden urge to put his mouth there, feel that motion with his tongue. He licked his lips unconsciously.  
“I do, very much.” Roman paused, took a deep breath and looked at him searchingly. “Will you let me?”

He hesitated for the space of a heartbeat. Bit his lips. Nodded. “Sure.” He felt the left corner of his mouth twitching up in a half nervous, half wry smile. “If you don’t mind me not having a clue how.”

Roman grinned and unexpectedly moved his fingers, circling them lightly behind his balls. Deniz started and sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s not exactly rocket science.”

“Okay.” Deniz averted his eyes, suddenly feeling incapable of holding that intent gaze. Determined to get on with it, he drew himself up and made to roll on his stomach, just when Roman bent down towards him. The result was a rather painful collision of their heads.

“Ow!”  
“Shit!”  
“Sorry! Did you-?”  
“Are you-?”

They reached for each other simultaneously, and at the sight of Roman’s chagrined, pained face, Deniz suddenly had to laugh. “I’m sorry…”  
The familiar laugh lines formed in the corners of Roman’s eyes as he grinned first, then chuckled, his lips mobile and gentle against Deniz’s smarting forehead. “Everything okay?”  
“Yeah.” Deniz grabbed his shoulders to kiss him before teasing, “I gotta say, pretty rotten coordination for an award-winning figure skater. Aren’t you supposed to be grace personified or something?”  
“Oh shut up, you.” Roman nipped his lower lip and pinned him down, shifting his weight against Deniz’s chest. “Brat. Where were you squirming off to, anyway?”

“I just wanted…” Deniz felt himself blushing again, fuck, he really had to get over that. “Uh, I thought…” He frowned when Roman wrapped an arm around his knee and started pushing his leg up, unsure of where this was going.  
“I, uhm… I thought this only worked from behind.” Immediately he wished he hadn’t admitted that – _well done, Deniz, why don’t you go ahead and hang a big “Clueless Virgin” sign around your neck while you’re at it?_  
But Roman just smiled against his lips between kisses. “Nah. That rumour was spread by envious straight people who’re secretly longing for some good doggy style action. Besides, I want to see your face.”

Deniz snorted a laugh, feeling strangely liberated by the fooling around. The pressure of expectation and the embarrassment of his ignorance suddenly seemed to weigh a lot less. “Okay, so how…?”  
“Wait.” Lying across him, Roman stretched for the bedside table, briefly digging around in a drawer and resurfacing with a condom and a tube in his hand. Following an impulse, Deniz promptly snatched the condom away from him. “Hey!” Roman protested indignantly, but it turned into a gasp a second later when Deniz reached down to close one hand around Roman’s cock while ripping the wrapper open with his other hand and his teeth. He stroked Roman, a little awkwardly, then fumbled to get the condom on him, feeling incredibly clumsy, but Roman didn’t seem to mind; he was smiling at him with lust-darkened eyes and met his lips in a brief, hard kiss.

Following the gentle pressure of Roman’s hands, Deniz grasped quickly enough what he was supposed to do, and positioned his legs as prompted. He felt a little silly doing so, and it was somewhat uncomfortable, but Roman didn’t leave him much room to ponder the indignity. There was a soft click as he snapped the tube of lube open, and then Deniz felt his fingers again, wet and slippery, nudging inside him. Deniz bit his lip, all too aware of his exposed position, one leg over Roman’s shoulder, the other one similarly elevated, supported by Roman’s hand around the back of his knee… and Roman’s fingers against him, inside him, beckoning and enticing, unaccustomed but arousing nonetheless, until he felt his cock twitching to new life, sooner than he’d thought possible. Roman noticed too; looking down, he cocked a brow and snorted. “Eighteen,” he murmured to himself, then looked up again to meet Deniz’s eyes, one side of his mouth twitching in a wry smile, although there was a certain strain around his eyes.

“Okay?” he asked, and Deniz nodded, although, how the hell should he know?

The fingers slipped out of him and were replaced with the tip of Roman’s cock, throbbing and feeling much larger than the two fingers before. Deniz made an involuntary noise when Roman pushed slowly forwards; it was so unfamiliar, different, hard, full, strange. Hot. He was breathing in short, harsh gasps, unconsciously in tune with Roman, who withdrew slowly before pushing back in, a little deeper this time. “Alright?” he whispered. Deniz could only nod, his hands digging into Roman’s back. It burned a little, but it didn’t really hurt, not like he had expected. Perhaps that had to do with how recently he had come; he guessed he was pretty relaxed, considering. It simply felt full, hot… and holy fuck, he’d had no idea he could be this sensitive down there. Roman shifted a bit, slightly adjusting the position of his hips, and Deniz couldn’t hold back a moan at the changed angle. It was the same point Roman had teased with his fingers before, only now he hit it with more force, straight on with every thrust, harder now, faster… he found he didn’t mind, on the contrary. He ran his hands across Roman’s back and shoulders, then his chest, and strained upwards to close his teeth on his neck. His trailing fingers found a stiff nipple, and he pinched it as he’d done before, gently at first, then harder at Roman’s answering gasp, twisting it slightly between his fingers until Roman rewarded him with a louder moan and a particularly deep thrust. Deniz experimentally raised his hips to meet the thrusts, tentatively at first, but quickly gaining momentum. His cock was fully hard again, and when Roman’s hand slid down from his leg to wrap around him, he pushed eagerly into his pumping fingers.

He could feel Roman’s breath on his face, coming in short gasps against his cheek, and opened his eyes – he wasn’t aware when he’d closed them – to see Roman’s face just before him, looking nothing short of sublime… his lips moist and parted as if in surprise, gaze fixed so intently on Deniz’s face as if he were incapable of looking elsewhere. His pupils were dilated, nearly swallowing the light blue of the iris. Deniz reached for him reflexively and closed one hand lightly around his throat, feeling the swallowing motion of the Adam’s apple underneath his palm.

“You’re so…” Roman murmured hoarsely; without finishing the sentence, he picked up the speed of his rhythm while rubbing Deniz’s cock harder. He closed his eyes, face contorting as if in surprise or pain. His hips snapped forward hard, once, twice, once more; then he uttered a strange sound, raw and almost desperate, and everything in him tensed and then shuddered in sudden release. Deniz was having trouble getting air into his lungs. The sight above him literally stole his breath: the soft, almost stunned expression of Roman’s veiled eyes, the lips with their damp sheen, the tiny drops of sweat forming on his forehead. He felt arched as tautly as a bowstring waiting to be released; feeling the last, twitching motions of Roman’s cock deep inside him, a few more erratic pumps of Roman’s hand on him were enough to send him over the edge and he came, tossing his head forwards and sinking his teeth hard into Roman’s shoulder while the sound of the blood rushing in his ears rose to a roar.

When he had recovered somewhat, he found Roman sprawled on top of him, heavy and boneless. Deniz didn’t have the strength for more than wrapping one hand around his nape and the other arm around his waist to hold him close. Oddly enough, he wasn’t feeling silly or inexperienced for a moment, but relaxed and strong; as if he somehow had to shield this warm, completely loosened body resting so trustingly against him. Roman was always so loud and outspoken, so uncompromisingly anchored in his sense of himself that his vulnerability was not immediately apparent; you did not notice right away that a surprising depth of uncertainty lingered beneath his bright, eager smile and open charm. Deniz had only had a few glimpses of it so far… after Bulle’s attack, in the locker room before they’d taken to the ice together, and this afternoon, when Roman had told him never to lie to him again. But it was there, that insecurity, that curiously sore spot. Deniz wasn’t sure what it was all about, but here and now, in this weightless, drifting state of absolute intimacy, he felt, in a moment of rare insight, as if he could almost grasp it. Roman was like the ice on which he danced: glittering and inviting and dazzlingly beautiful, but oh so easy to break.

Deniz unconsciously tightened his arms around him, until Roman made a small noise of protest and untangled himself. He rolled off Deniz with a shaky breath and sat up. Deniz made a face when he felt him slipping out; he heard Roman fumbling around with the condom but didn’t look, unwilling to spoil the moment with such profane things as disposing of the evidence. Still, he couldn’t entirely avoid bits of reality slowly sneaking back into his consciousness: a small cramp in his calf, a slight soreness in his arse that he was just starting to notice now, the sticky mess of come on his belly.

The mattress dipped beside him as Roman rejoined him. Fingertips brushed questioningly against his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Roman asked softly, tentatively. Deniz chewed on his lip and suppressed a sigh, feeling a tiny twinge of… not irritation, not quite, but a fleeting moment of regret for that long, suspended moment of aftermath, of simple, wordless sharing, perfect understanding wrapped in silence. Roman being Roman, of course, no silence ever lasted long, and now he’d want to talk. He’d want to know how he was, if he was alright, what he thought and what it had been like, when all Deniz wanted to do was lie here quietly for a little while longer with Roman curled against him, letting it all sink in and settle a bit first.

“Dar… Deniz?”

Deniz turned his head without hurry to blink up into Roman’s concerned face, frowning. “You weren’t just about to call me darling, were you?” he asked, the threat in his voice only half teasing. Roman looked sheepish for a second and seemed to discover something of vast interest in a piece of lint on the sheets; then he attempted an innocent glance, batting his lashes. “Erm. No?”

Deniz had to grin, feeling the slight chagrin melt away. With his wide eyes underneath tousled hair, Roman looked all of fourteen and completely irresistible. “I sincerely hope so,” he said, giving a lazy shove to Roman’s chest.  
Roman rolled his eyes and flopped down on one elbow beside him, grinning madly. “Macho.”

Deniz drew up his brows. “After what you just did to me, _I’m_ the macho?” But he didn’t quite pull off the leering tone, and he felt his cheeks warming again. Clearly, he wasn’t quite ready to joke about it or even carry on a normal conversation.

Roman seemed to understand, or he wasn’t teasing back, at any rate. Head tilted slightly, he watched Deniz with a small frown. Deniz evaded his gaze, feeling unexpectedly shy. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say. Roman, big surprise, got there first. “What did you think?”  
Deniz shrugged, not entirely ready to deal with that question. “Different, I guess.” He cleared his throat again. “Is it always like that?”

Roman smiled. “Nooo,” he replied, drawing it out. “There are lots of… variations.” He bent close to rub his cheek lightly against Deniz’s shoulder, a strangely sweet gesture, like an affectionate kitten. “For example, I do hope you’re game for trying it the other way round sometime,” he murmured, impishly peeking up at him from underneath his lashes before gently biting his shoulder. Deniz stared at him, the image sudden and incredibly vivid before his eyes: Roman, naked and writhing underneath him, warm and moaning and begging for more while he…

He swallowed convulsively and forced himself to smile blandly. “Sure.” He bent over to plant a quick kiss on Roman’s forehead and hide his sudden fluster. “I need a shower.” He briefly squeezed Roman’s fingers and then let go, rolling sideways off the bed. It took him a moment to convince his butter-soft legs to support him; he was still feeling pleasantly floppy and drained.

He managed eventually and made for the door. Roman’s voice held him back; he spoke his name again, low and husky, the way only Roman could say it: “Deniz.”

Turning back, the sight made him swallow: Roman, slender and relaxed on top of the rumpled sheets, the long, clear lines of his body caressed by the dim light of the cheap lamp. Different. Unique. Stunning.

“You’ll be back, though, right?”

There it was again, that strange uncertainty, as if he wasn’t so lovely that nothing could touch him: the ice, bold and an eternal challenge, but far from impervious. Deniz smiled as reassuringly as he could.

“Of course I’ll be back.”


End file.
